


timeless crystals

by not_the_idle



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_the_idle/pseuds/not_the_idle
Summary: Edward worries that remembering his life pre-Bella will remind him of the loneliness he felt before he met her. So Bella writes him a book of short stories to prove to him that no matter the time and no matter the circumstance - they will always find each other and fill each other's lives with love. This work is a collection of those stories.
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters are to come, all of this is prologue

**_Prologue_ **

Emmett is scaling the family Christmas tree with the grace of King Kong. Wearing his black glasses, he can’t see how he’s destroying the tree’s branches. Flying ornaments swarm like gnats above Bella and Edward’s heads. As the balls knock into walls, glass clinks. The noise could be mistaken for champagne toasts if not for King Kong’s grunting in the background. Suddenly, Emmett cranes his neck to the left, jumps down, and sprints towards the dining room. During his flight, he steps on a pile of Rosalie’s opened presents.

“Well, Rosalie is going to be upset,” Bella says, moving from the ripped wrapping paper on the living room’s couch to an armchair farther away from the destruction. “Giving Emmett a virtual reality headset may be the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

Edward watches Bella move, but stays seated in his straight backed chair. His mind churns for a moment, not on Rosalie’s emotions but on his own. “I don’t understand the appeal,” he says, “What’s so incomplete about this reality that makes someone seek out others?”

“It’s not about feeling incomplete,” Bella replies, “it’s that life has infinite possibilities. Every time we make a choice we close a door. But what if we could open both doors and close nothing? Virtual reality makes that possible. Plus, it’s fun. You always discount the fun angle.”

At this, Edward purses his lips. He’s never been a big believer in having your cake and eating it too.

“Plus, so much of our life is arbitrary,” Bella continues, “That bookshelf, over there” she points to the bronze bookshelf on the west wall, “calling it a ‘bookshelf’ rather than a ‘tome home’ is a completely arbitrary decision. What if there was a world where it was called a tome home? How delightful would that world be, don’t you want to find that out? Curiosity is the reason for exploring other realities. Aren’t you a little curious?”

“I have curiosity. But it always leads me here, to what’s in front of me. What could be better than what I already have? I don’t want to imagine anything else.” he says. Then he pauses. Bella senses the weight of his silence. She knows that he isn’t done thinking yet. After a while, he continues, “to take my mind elsewhere, to a place without you — without this — would be inviting loneliness.”

“But don’t you ever daydream?,” she asks, “you can explore somewhere made up with the security of knowing your real reality will always be here. It doesn’t have to be lonely.” But before Bella can finish her sentence, Edward interrupts.

“To do so feels fragile. Like I’m cracking our foundation. Just a small crack, easy to ignore. But cracks always grow.” His voice is forceful. He wants her to hear his point. But more importantly, he wants her to hear his fear, “and you can’t know how much our foundation means to me.”

“I do, I promise I do.” she says, moving back to the couch. Before sitting down, she brushes off the stray shards of glass. Then she motions for Edward to join her. Moving too quickly, he tramples the rest of Rosalie’s presents. He takes his seat next to Bella and rests his head on her shoulder. He brings his knees to his chest, hugging them close. Hugging them as close as he wants to feel to the real world around him— the world with Bella, with her love, with her life in this room with its natural light. Here, light from outside reflects off a shared immortal life, refracting into so many colors. It’s this room full of timeless crystals — Bella’s wedding ring, the broken glass, their sparkling skin — that sets captive colors free. Light outside is bound to colorlessness, but here, it releases its inner rainbow. Edward admires how colorful his colorless life turned out to be.

Bella runs her fingers through his hair, wanting to bring him back from his thoughts.

“It’s official,” she says, softly “we’ve destroyed  _ all _ of Rosalie’s presents. She won’t be upset, she’ll be furious,” Bella pauses, hoping he’ll smile. But he’s still far too tense. His hands are digging into his knees. Finger by finger, she peels the hand closest to her from its grip. Holding his palm in both of her hands, she gives it a squeeze. Her touch eases his dark moods, it always does.

With his hand in hers, he can emerge from his shell of tension like a newborn duckling. Sitting by her side, he laces their hands together.

“We don’t have to talk about elsewhere,” Bella says, “what about your own reality? You know, taking time to enjoy your memories.”

Edward squeezes her hand this time. Saying nothing, he keeps his focus on her touch.

“I like remembering Christmases past,” Bella continues, “how Renee would collect knick knacks and try to turn them into tree ornaments. She found a morse code transmitter once and tried to drill a hole through it. Thinking she could hang it on the tree, I guess. Surprising no one, she drilled through her finger instead.”

Bella laughs. Edward feels her touch, but can’t hear her. He doesn’t respond.

“My lion,” she says, releasing their joined hands, turning his palm up to rest on her thigh. Using the slightest pressure, with the tip of her nail she traces a line on his wrist’s thin skin. He can’t resist a touch so fragile and delicate. He turns to look at her.

“What were your Christmases like before I came around?” she asks.

“Inadequate.” he says.

“I mean, what did you do? Did you have a tree? What foods did you eat?”

“My lamb, my curious lamb,” he says, grazing the hollow of her throat with his hand. “You’re still inviting me to think of a world without you. I lived in that world far too long. Visiting there would extinguish the flame you sparked in me.”

“I can reignite it,” she says. “Please trust me.”

“I do. It’s my own loneliness I don’t trust.” At this, he kisses her forehead. Firmly planting his lips in the precise center. The kiss feels so round, so much like a period ending a sentence. Bella senses his limit and stops pressing him.

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you too,” he says, looking down at her wedding ring. At his mother’s wedding ring, brought to this room from the past. From a time of sickness, but also of motherly love. He  _ can _ think of the past, he reassures himself. He can scale the tree of memory without getting stuck in the branches. So long as his past joins with his present as closely as his mother’s ring sits on Bella’s skin.

* * *

Moving towards the midsummer sun, Emmett shimmies up the forest’s silver pole. Alice put up the 12 foot pole, covering the steel with lush greenery. But she tasked Emmett with tying ribbons to the top. One ribbon for each Cullen. One ribbon to take in their hand as they dance in circles, weaving the ribbons together. Celebrating the month of May with a rainbow of colors.

She’d been collecting May Day flowers for weeks. Littering them all over the house as she created flower crowns. Each crown tailored to each vampire. Bella’s a string of daisies, Rosalie’s orange and yellow marigolds. Now that the day is here, the family walks barefoot in the forest. They arrive at a pile of seeds and Alice challenges their speed.

“Take each seed one by one and plant it in town. But do it quickly, before the humans notice. I want to see who can plant the most. But if they see you, you’re disqualified.” she says.

Esme and Carlisle listen, sitting on tree stumps, holding hands. Emmett nods at Rosalie, giving her their signal to compete with one another. They move towards the pile, aiming for a head start. Jasper hangs back, radiating spring’s warmth. 

_ My bluebonnet _ , he thinks.  _ She’s not from Texas, my beautiful bluebonnet. But she’s so divine, by my Texas law she won’t ever be uprooted.  _

Edward, absorbed with Jasper’s thoughts, hasn’t noticed Bella hiding her hands behind her back. While Alice, Rosalie, and Emmett have a pre-game discussion about what is and isn’t cheating, Bella clears her throat.

“Happy May Day,” she says to Edward, taking her hands out from behind her. They hold a wrapped present and she nudges it against Edward to get his attention.

“I didn’t think this was a gift giving holiday,” he replies.

“Traditionally it’s not. But you’ll see that mine’s fitting. Plus, you shouldn’t question a gift, Edward. So rude. I made it for you.”

“My apologies, I was caught off guard. Let me open it now.”

He unwraps a heavy book. A black cover binding together scalloped pages. He flips through, noticing Bella’s handwriting on each page. He looks up at her.

“May Day is thought to divide the year into halves,” she says, “one half has the dark of winter and the other half has the light of summer. May Day celebrates a passage from the half in dark to the half in light. This book does that too; brings light to where there was only darkness.”

“But you’ve already done that for me.”

“Not like this. This is a book of stories set in a time apart from the present. A book of stories about  _ us _ . Because I know that no matter the time and no matter the setting, we can find each other. That our love — our connection — is strong. We won’t be lost and we won’t be lonely. We’re timeless, like crystals. And now you can know that too.”

“My lamb, how do you always know exactly what I want?” he asks.

“My lion, you’ve gotten predictable in your old age.” she replies, always teasing.

Alice blows a trumpet to indicate that the seed planting race has begun. But Edward doesn’t move, he sits down on the forest floor and opens the first page.


	2. Boston, Massachusetts - November, 1942 - Have You Seen James?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boston, Massachusetts - November, 1942 and Edward finds himself trying to make a band work.

The year was close to ending, and he had some complaints. Edward hadn’t always had them. He started his year with a plan and, up until now, the plan had gone well. First part of the plan — ditch Rosalie. It was effortless to ignore her complaints and his life felt freer with her absence. Second part of the plan — travel solo to scout talent. Criss-cross the globe in search of every dingy nightclub with a live band. He kept his eye out for bars hazy with smoke. He could smell the spilt beer drying on the floor as dancing shoes from dolled up couples pitter-pattered in every direction. That’s when he’d step inside. Knowing that places like these are where you find raw musical talent. And that’s what he needed — the raw talent — that he could then mold into an ideal member of his band. 

Third part of the plan — recruit the musician. That’s what the talent was to him now, no longer a musical hobbyist, but a musician. For Edward, this endeavor was professional. He needed upstanding musicians, only the best and brightest, to be a part of what he was working on. And what he was working on was the perfect band. 

Fourth part of the plan — start the band on the nightclub circuit. He wished live bands were better appreciated in fine dining restaurants, parks, or anywhere without such sleaze. He wanted to avoid the nightclubs entirely; avoid the drunk patrons ready to fight. Smashing beer glasses in their rage, spraying the area with broken shards. How those shards would nick skin, droplets of blood forming and taking their time as they drip downward. Taunting him, even with their booze soaked impurities. He wanted to make music somewhere else, _anywhere else_ , as long as he could avoid the nightclubs. But it was 1942 and nightclubs were the place to be. The place people flock to in order to hear the liveliest music. That, along with the cover of darkness, sealed it. Edward shrugged. _I guess I’m a nightclub person now._

The pianos in these places weren’t half bad. If he closed his eyes while he played, if he stopped breathing, he could be somewhere else. Could imagine himself in front of a spiral staircase, playing his own compositions for people who appreciated piano music alone. But that dream worked against his current goal — to curate a band. He wanted to play the music he couldn’t make by himself. So it was useless to stay in that mental space.

But god, did he want to. Turns out, humans aren’t clay. Even if you mold them, they’ll show you a crack you didn’t anticipate. His first singer had an otherworldly voice untethered to her body. When she opened her mouth, none of her voice stayed inside her. She gave it whole to those listening. That voice worked its way into Edward’s missing pieces, charging in and filling them with song. He saw how much she could give and immediately took her on. But in order for her to give, she had to take. He knows that now. How she took things that made sense — money, jewelry, cigarettes. And how she took things that didn’t — used handkerchiefs and buttons she’d pick off jackets while you’re trying to fasten them. Edward knew he needed to give. To give her back to where she came from.

Fine, onto the next. A California drummer with rhythm quicker than driving on a California highway. And a pace of life slower than a traffic jam. He dragged out breakfast to take all day and never passed up an opportunity for idle conversation. He did pass up band practice. And band meetings. And band gigs.

Fine, onto the next. To a trumpet player who violently harassed the shy bassist. Next. To a homesick singer who, only leaving a note, took a train back during the middle of the night. Next. To a guitarist only willing to play during his solos. Next.

But he did it. Edward ended up at Cocoanut Grove anyway to play this momentous show. Rising despite the issues. He thought his band was finally coming together. He was sure of it. And once again, things are falling apart. The show is close to starting. The new singer has run off to flirt. He coaxes her back, telling her she’ll still be alive and beautiful after the show. She can enjoy it then.  
But now his saxophonist is nowhere to be found. Edward rolls his eyes before he sees just how little time he still has before the show starts. Then he panics. Rushes out into the packed crowd, elbowing his way through.

“Have you seen James? Tall, but not too tall. Dark hair, widow’s peak. Scar on his neck.” Edward yells to no one in particular. Darting his head from one side to the other, scanning the crowd and broadcasting his message. Hopefully someone will hear and point him in the right direction.

No takers yet. He weaves through the crowd. James has to be here somewhere. Edward starts to push slow movers out of his way, if he could check more of the crowd then he could find James in time.

“Hey!” the woman next to Edward objected. She was a tiny little thing. Every other woman in this place was wearing high heels, while she was in flat shoes. “Eyes up here! If my heels wouldn’t’ve broken and I was wearing what I wanted to, I’d be pushed over thanks to you.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Edward stopped rushing to face her. Her lips were painted as red as a cocktail cherry with orange hair falling in springy waves above each of her shoulders. 

_That hair, it’s exactly the color that should clash with cherry red. But it doesn’t. Or does it? Does it clash ever so slightly to keep me looking longer? Because I am looking longer. Or maybe the hair has nothing to do with it? Maybe it’s all her._

Edward brought his thoughts back to the matter at hand. “Have you seen James?”

“I heard you the first time. And all the times you’ve been yellin’ it. I’m Victoria and I don’t know a James. But if you can’t find him in here, he’s probably out back.”

“What’s out back?” Edward asks.

“I wish I didn’t know, so I’ll spare you. Despite you shovin’ into me and all.”

“Ok, thanks.” Edward said.

“Thank me by quitting your hollerin’.” she said, tapping her friend’s glass with a long nail. Giving Edward a sly look out of the corner of her eye.

“Ok, will do!” Edward yelled as he ran towards the back door. He had no idea what to make of that. Of her.

“YOU’RE STILL DOIN’ IT! STILL HOLLERIN’!” She yelled back. She caught his eye and he saw her smiling and shaking her head. Obviously amused. Should he find her? You know, after the show? He wasn’t sure he trusted her, but it’d be nice to talk to someone who can hold their own. Someone who could be an actual friend since none of his bandmates have ever come close. They’re children. Misbehaving, petulant children. And in the case of James, lost children.

Edward made it to the back door, opened it, and stepped outside. The night air smelled cleaner, though there was no time to savor it. While thinking about James, Edward heard the back door close behind him and a heavy bar drop to securely lock it from the inside.

_Well, I guess I’m trapped outside now. With time still ticking._

That time pressure and the ‘too much’ of the nightclub — too much noise and too many thoughts, rattled around in his mind like a dryer filled with bits of scrap metal. He closed his eyes to focus. He knew James' mental voice, so he should be able to pick it out of the crowd. To hear if he’s even ‘out back’. Or whether Edward needed to find a way inside the nightclub again. It wasn’t long before Edward could hear that mental voice, with a poisonous tone.

_I can use my belt… they’ll never know_

He could tell James was nearby. But Edward felt as close as he could feel to a cold chill. James is going to use his belt, though he wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. But the way he was saying it, that didn’t sound good. Edward started to put things together. He’d been sent, then locked out here. No one else seems to be around, though it’s hard to tell with the nightclub noise drowning out his thoughts. So he crouched and darted his head from side to side. He didn’t know what was going on, but it felt like a set up. Like he’d walked right into it and would have to fight not to pay a price. 

The metal trash cans near the fence rattled. Edward thought it must be people getting ready to jump. He didn’t know how many of them there were. Whether there were so many he should attack first, or whether he’d be better off to wait. The rattling got louder. Edward was so on edge, that when the trash cans turned over, Edward sprung to attack —  
A raccoon. Edward sprung to attack a raccoon.

“Well, so much for a terrifying attack,” Edward told himself. “I should just count myself lucky that Rosalie isn’t here. She’d never let me live this down.” Edward began his Rosalie impression, “HAHA Edward is scared of the big bad trash panda. Look at how adorable I mean terrifying the little guy is…” Edward felt his tense muscles relax. Yes, he’s late for their show and still doesn’t know where James is. But he’s not being attacked or mocked by Rosalie, so at least something is going right.

“Edward?” James shouts from behind the overturned trash cans. It’s his real voice, which catches Edward off guard. He spins around to see James seated on the ground, belt tied above his elbow, needle in his other hand. Edward has been walking the streets at night long enough to know what’s happening. James is going to inject some drugs. That’s where Edward’s knowledge ends. He’s never had to talk to anyone doing this. Does he stop him by force? Take him to a hospital? To his family? Convince him not to do it? Indecision paralyzed Edward as he tried to figure out what to say or do next.

Edward stayed frozen, it was James who made the first move. Glancing up at Edward, James’ eyes turned from almond to completely round in shape. A look of pure horror, he backed away on his hands and knees until he was out of sight. Before Edward could ask himself what was up with that, he began to smell smoke. Edward turned back around to see smoke rolling through the cracks in the locked door. And even more smoking rolling from the windows above. The coughs and screams from people inside were rolling out with the smoke too.

Then he saw the flames. The white hot flames, the vampire-killing flames, raging inside.


End file.
